It takes a tremendous amount of self-restraint to not make every single post about A.A. Milne. Today, two weeks after my last Milne-rumination, I give in and post another one. But it’s Mother’s Day so it’s totally cool.

My fond memories of childhood will always be bound up with fond memories of Mom. She was there for so much of it: My friend, comforter, caretaker, and the inspiration for so many adventures. Whenever I look back to my childhood, I’ll always see my Mom’s reflection around the edges.

Milne’s Dedication of Winnie-the-Poohsomehow captures this connection between Motherhood and Childhood. (A book about childhood, after all, should always be dedicated to Moms.) Typically authors begin their books with some ambiguous but supposedly meaningful statement directed towards someone’s first name. Like, “To Lucy, who taught me the meaning of Breakfast.” Milne’s too good for that and instead pens something beautiful and true. He simply gets whatever it is that makes Mothers so special, meaningful, valuable, and just plain treasured. So to all you Mommas out there (especially my Momma), thanks for being you.

To Her

Hand in hand we come
Christopher Robin and I
To lay this book in your lap.